


Rush of Blood

by orphan_account



Category: Scott Pilgrim - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen and Joseph's first time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rush of Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, I'm not too great at writing dirty stuff. But I tried.

His hand in mine makes my heart race and blood rush to my cheeks – no matter how many times he does it.

When his lips touch my neck, a certain chill runs down my spine and my stomach does backflips, but not in the way it does before shows; there's no sickness, but a rush of blood to a certain area that doesn't necessarily make me want to complain.

The way his beard grazes mine when we kiss reminds me that he is so unabashedly a man and that fills me with excitement.

My fingers entwine with his rough, thick hair and he grins against my mouth – something you'd never see unless alone with him – which, in turn, makes me smile and pull away.

His dark eyes stare back at me, in that fiery ways of his; my heart flutters and I look down at our legs curling around each other. I'm almost in his lap and the fire in my abdomen grows.

I take a handful of his shirt in my fist, and god, I know, that's such a silly fanfiction trope. His hand continues to lie gently on my thigh, but slowly inches upward, making me shiver with anticipation.

He unbuttons the top of my shirt with ease, and runs a hand up and down my neck, and over my shoulder, his fingernails grazing my skin and making my eyes roll back and fall shut. He takes a nip at my earlobe, in an almost playful manner that's so different from his image in the light. That's the good thing about dating someone like Joseph; you get to see parts of them that nobody would see otherwise, parts that make you feel proud and warm inside.

When he gets my shirt off, he lays me down on his bed and straddles me.

He's really taken the reigns on this one.

I bite my lip as he works at my neck and chest, leaving marks in clever places where only my eyes will ever see... and his, I mean. I tug at his shirt, meekly, and he understands that little motion, sitting up and tossing it off and into oblivion, where it lie in a crumpled mess. He pushes his hair out of his face in a fashion I've seen porn stars do and I start to laugh before he leans back down and shuts me up with a heated, aggressive kiss.

I don't really mind him dominating me like this, to be honest.

He whispers little compliments in my ear as he unbuckles my belt and unbuttons my jeans, urgently pulling them down before inching downward more and more to my groin area. My right hand rests on his head, playing with his hair, my left sitting atop my mouth to keep me from crying out when his lips wrap around me and I feel a way I never felt when I was with Julie.

He's remarkably good at it, and seems to even enjoy it, and I come embarrassingly fast but that doesn't necessarily mean it's over. He moves back up to eye level and we kiss despite the bitter taste in his mouth; and he maneuvers around my tongue ring and pulls down his sweatpants and it's all pretty sexy. He guides my hand to his crotch and his cute little boxer briefs, and I take a bit of artistic liberty on the situation, hooking my index finger around the elastic band and revealing skin, and I realize that I can't really do much without lube, and I whisper something about it with a giggle.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Joseph grins and reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a little heart-shaped bottle, and I give him that really? look and he snorts. “Shut up, it was cheap and it works.” He squirts a little bit into my palm and my hand moves back downward and when I grasp him he makes this face. This face that makes a grin appear on mine, and I'm so god damn proud of myself; his hand is around mine, guiding me, though it's completely unnecessary because in my twenty-three years, yes, I've learnt to jack off, and a handjob can't be that different, right?

… So maybe it is that different. The way he moves me is almost graceful, it's gentle and my wrist sways as if I were in ballet. His sighs in my ear make me shiver and it all just feels right. Not dirty like the way Julie did it. Not rough or aggressive, though I'm sure Joseph wouldn't mind that; he makes sure I'm comfortable doing what I'm doing and tells me that it feels nice, and tells me what he doesn't like, and it's all pretty nice. My heart pounds and it feels almost as if I'm having heart palpitations, but it never makes me uncomfortable like the way it does before shows or auditions. There's a tight knot in my stomach and electricity in my fingertips, and I'm not surprised at all when I'm hard again.

My hand moves from the place it's been resting on Joseph's shoulder to my groin and he lets out a huff, the beginning of a laugh. “Do you know what frotting is, Stephen?”

I shake my head “no,” and he kisses me on the cheek. “It's weird to explain, so I can just,” he reaches for my cock and joins us together, then continues moving up and down.

“That's it. That's all it is,” he kisses me and sighs into my mouth. “'s usually what I do.”

“Yeah?” I ask, barely a whisper or sigh.

“Yeah. Easier than, uh... anal, and...”

“Nobody minds a handjob, right?”

“You read my mind.” Eye contact. His eyes are beautiful, and aggressive, dark brown and caramel where the light of the streetlamp outside hits them, and his eyelashes are so long that it seems like I can feel them on mine. He kisses me, sucking on my lip, and soon moves back down to my neck where he seems to be favoring a hickey.

“Your eyes are pretty, Stephen,” he breathes out, low and bassy and so raspy, and just the sound of his voice makes me shake. “Big baby blues. You've got the eyes romance authors write about.”

“You would know?”

“I went to high school. I,” he interrupts himself with a groan, “I read the classics. I think we should shut up now.” He nips at my ear and we are in silence once again, save for the mellow rock song emitting quietly from his stereo.

The fingers of his free hand entwine with mine, the other hand atop mine on our groins, and I feel my toes curl and my stomach tighten and my fingernails dig into his knuckles. I bite my lip and he rests his forehead on the pillow beside mine, breathing hot on my shoulder, and I let out the tiniest bit of a squeak when I come, and he does shortly after, with a harsh exhale and a few kisses to my neck.

We lie there, still silent, and there's a sticky white mess on my abdomen. He snorts.

“Sorry. That's gonna be hell to clean up if it dries.” He pulls a pack of baby wipes out of his nightstand which seems to be there for this exact reason, and cleans me up, and we both sit up, pulling our pants back up. Joseph grabs a cigarette from the pack atop his nightstand and lights it, offering it to me.

I take a drag and hand it back to him, sighing. “Why do you talk so much when you're having sex?”

Joseph pauses and stares forward, and I start to think he's not going to answer me. “... I'm comfortable, I guess. I never... really have boyfriends, or whatever. I have some casual sex, and obviously, there's not much to talk about when you've just met at a bar and can hardly remember his name. So... It means I trust you. I guess.” He leans over and kisses my cheek for the millionth time tonight. “Was that a first?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean. I've had sex, but never with a guy.”

I pause.

“Never with a guy, sober,” I correct myself.

Joseph shrugs. “You staying the night, or will that make your little roommate cry?”

I glance at the alarm clock on Joseph's nightstand. “It's one in the morning. I might as well. I don't work till five tomorrow.”

“Good, lay down. We're going to sleep.”

And so sleep, we do.


End file.
